October 2012

Tuesday, 30 October 2012

This colony of Rosacea may look like a single jellyfish, but it is actually a large group of smaller siphonophores clustered and living together. CREDIT: L. Madin, Woods Hole Oceanographic Institution (www.cmarz.org). This images was included in National Museum of Natural History's Ocean Portal image gallery.

For Halloween, I thought about a couple directions for this article. I recently found out about the ghost crab. Loving the fact that this creature's common name includes “ghost," I searched the Encyclopedia of Life and found Yeti Crabs, Witch’s Hair, as well as a whole host of “ghost” animals. Then I remembered two of my favorite quotes I found last year and realized I found the perfect topic for the holiday.

The quotes come from the notes of Lieutenant H.R. Stevens who participated in the United States North Pacific Exploring Expedition, 1853-1856. We have several expeditions that were aboard US Navy vessels during the nineteenth century. When cataloging these materials, we don’t generally find documentation of the officers playing an active role in the collecting and describing, but it seems Stevens took to this type of work.

The expedition surveyed parts of the Bering Straits, the North Pacific Ocean and the China Seas along routes used by American trading vessels between the United States and China. Several naturalists came along to collect for the United States North Pacific Exploring Expedition. Military officers like Lieutenant Stevens helped collect marine specimens during the voyage. In his notes, Stevens wrote the following descriptions:

[August 11, 1853] Caught in hauling in the long line. A substance 5 ¾ inches long, 1 ½ inches broad…The whole outside covered with crystalline points from which appeared to be omitted, the brilliant phosphorescent light that it showed.

[August 28th, 1853] Caught in net. A great many globular substances. Somewhat resembling spawn. These on being put into a glass jar and stirred up at night showed like sparks of fire.

My assumption is that he was observing one of my favorite occurrences in nature, bioluminescence. This is the ability of an organism to create and emit light. If you haven’t seen it before, it is a fascinating adaptation to observe, and can be quite inspiring. In fact artist Shih Chieh Huang created an installation at the National Museum of Natural History inspired by bioluminescence.

I find Stevens’ choice of wording fascinating as he tried to describe the appearance with words like “phosphorescent light” and “sparks of fire.” Trying to put myself in his place, I can’t think there were many things one would see in the 1850’s that would be comparable to bioluminescence. His wording is surprising. If you take a look at the gallery of images compiled by NMNH, you’ll see some examples of what might have inspired Steven’s words.

So as you go out and enjoy the fantastical things people create for Halloween, keep in mind these snapshots from a nearly 3-year long voyage and just how unexpected the real world can be.

Friday, 26 October 2012

Many of us enjoy the great American outdoors, going for hikes in national parks or nature walks near home. One prepares for a multitude of possible challenges: adverse weather, a run-in with wildlife, or possible injury. How many people prepare for the possibility of discovering an illegal moonshine still?

February 16, 1923 Entry from A. H. Howell’s field book housed in Division of Mammals, National Museum of Natural History. SIA Acc. 12-443. Photograph by Lesley Parilla.

While locating biographical information on collectors, I have come across a handful of stories recounting specimen collectors coming across moonshine stills. I enjoyed these stories in passing; however, I recently came across a reference to a still in a field book entry. The entry was terse, and initiated a series of questions for me. How many times had this happened? What wasn’t written down? The more I considered these questions, the more I wondered about the precautions and approaches collectors might take in this kind of situation.

How does one deal with the unexpected discovery of illegal activities in an isolated place and the diplomatic requirements of such a situation?

One of the first stories I came across was told by Ashley Gurney in an obituary for Harry A. Allard. He recounted that when Allard collected in the mountains of Virginia, he was careful to “avoid locations of stills and bring cigars for men with whom he became acquainted.”

How often have scientists come across a still because the user inadvertently harmed the surrounding wildlife, thus attracting government attention?

This question came expressly after I found the journal entry (that inspired this blog) of A. H. Howell who was working for the US Biological Survey (USBS).

[February 16, 1923] Riverton, Kansas, with Mr. Chas. Williams…and observed the ducks on Spring River where the sickness had been. Williams had already found out that the malady was caused by eating sour mash dumped near a bootlegger’s camp.

It turns out that this quote was not the anomaly for the US Biological Survey that I initially thought it was. With a little research, I found there was a surprising correlation between the history of USBS efforts and illegal alcohol.

What challenges did USBS face because of these kinds of activities?

This part of the story begins when the USBS (established in 1885) was put in the role of enforcer of the Lacey Act. The law prohibits shipment of illegally taken wildlife and importation of species across state lines. Additionally, between 1908 and 1918, the Biological Survey took on the responsibility of establishing and running new bird refuges as farmers took over existing migratory bird habitat for new farm land; for more background on this, read our blog post from 2011 on duck bombs. Treaties signed with Canada and Mexico during this time imposed additional restrictions. Then came Prohibition (1920 to 1933) and the Great Depression (1929 – c. 1939).

It turns out that the sites for many of the refuges were appealing not just to wildlife but also to bootleggers and moonshiners. They were isolated and well-situated for hiding from the authorities. During the 1930’s there was a significant increase in the number of refuges as part of the Civilian Conservation Corps and Works Progress Administration. The Migratory Bird Hunting Stamp Act also ensured more consistent funding for the USBS and meant they could hire more staff to monitor and maintain the refuges. In fact many of the early field books we have cataloged for the Field Book Project document investigations of proposed or existing wildlife refuges.

So the bootleggers were in the refuges (several refuge museums even feature stills found within their borders), and USBS staff were monitoring their wildlife populations. What now you ask?
It seems that the bootleggers realized that they had the infrastructure to move more than alcohol. During the 1930’s they began to bootleg ducks. Yes, ducks. Ducks were killed (out of season and against the statutes of international treaty) and then were transported by bootleggers to restaurants and nightclubs, sometimes also the recipients of bootlegged alcohol. Some of the interactions between bootleggers and USBS staff took a violent turn.

Luckily the vast majority of the references I have found indicate that any exchange between USBS and still owners was usually peaceful. But, for me, it highlights that the challenges and difficulties of collecting in the field are not just finding flora and fauna.

Tuesday, 23 October 2012

This summer was filled with milestones, not only for our Project, but for others as well. The exciting news in July that Old Weather, a crowd-sourcing transcription project we admire, completed transcriptions for thousands of ships logs made me reflect on our own logbook collections, particularly the Albatross logbooks, which I am currently cataloging. The Albatross logbooks are part of the United States Bureau of Fisheries Records, circa 1877-1948 (Smithsonian Institution Archives RU7184). Although often seemingly sparse with information, these items contain valuable records of marine collecting, weather conditions, and history.

The Smithsonian obtained the Albatross (and other famous research vessel) logbooks through its close relationship with the United States Commission of Fish and Fisheries (later the Bureau of Fisheries, and still later, the Fish and Wildlife Service) established in 1871 by Congress. Congress appointed then Assistant Secretary of the Smithsonian, Spencer Fullerton Baird, as the new agency’s Commissioner. The Smithsonian became the depository for specimens collected by the commission, and with the specimens came the logbooks. The Albatross, built in 1882 as a United States Bureau of Fisheries vessel, became the first large ship specifically designed for marine research. During a nearly 40 year career, the ship carried out numerous expeditions, most notably in the Arctic, Galapagos Islands, Philippines, Hawaiian Islands, and the West and Pacific Northwest of North America, greatly increasing the natural history collections at the Smithsonian.

One obvious use for the Albatross logbooks is the marine specimen information recorded within. Although not all Albatross logbooks contain notes about what was collected, a large number of them do. Quick notes about the quantities and types of specimens collected, including fish and a variety of marine invertebrates, were often recorded. Over extended periods of time, such information has the potential to help researchers notice patterns, compare marine populations of the past to present populations, and perhaps predict future trends. Such a use for information within logbooks is suggested by Poul Holm in his article “Where are the big fish?”, which discusses the declining populations of big fish evidenced by hundreds of years of fisherman’s logs and archival records.

Another promising aspect of the Albatross logbooks is its record of temperature and weather information. Water temperatures at various depths were recorded as well as air temperature, wind, clouds, state of the sea, weather (rain, fog, etc.), direction and force of current, tide, and barometer reading. Daily weather data over long time periods can be useful for understanding past environments, for making predictions, and for understanding the impact of weather on biodiversity. The Old Weather project saw these potential uses of weather information within the Royal Navy logbooks they transcribed, as explained on their blog in the article “The Royal Navy as Weather Observers.”

Logbooks can also be useful records of historical events, which I learned early on when cataloging the Allan Bé Papers. These daily notes contain incredible historic value because they document the precise activities of organizations (i.e. institutions and research vessels) and people (i.e. expedition staff). In this way, logbooks can potentially reconstruct the biography of a research vessel or the people who traveled and collected aboard it. Old Weather noted this potential for regaining historical context, too, in "An Historical Perspective."

There is untold potential for researchers to use the information within the Albatross and other ships’ logbooks to discover patterns and linkages within marine ecosystems and also to fill in gaps of our historical knowledge. When looking at the various uses for the important specimen, weather, and historical information within these logbooks, I look forward to being able to emulate the success of projects like Old Weather in order to unlock more of these data in logbooks and other field books.

Documenting biodiversity is an important part of the Field Book Project. I recently came across a more visceral side of biodiversity while cataloging. It demonstrates the “interconnectedness” of nature in a practical sense -- ectoparasites as disease vectors. Ectoparasites are really annoying insects and other arthropods like fleas, mites, ticks, lice that spread diseases…you don’t get more connected than that.

This topic is perhaps more relevant to current events than the typical Field Book Project blog post topic. West Nile virus, N1H1 virus, and Lyme disease are all examples of diseases spread through disease vectors.

The field books that we have cataloged relating to this subject represent one facet of the Smithsonian’s research on disease vectors. The Department of Entomology has had an ongoing relationship with the US Army, Walter Reed Biosystematics Unit (WRBU) since 1961. The two organizations work together to manage and develop the NMNH Mosquito Collection, which has become the largest of its kind at 1.5 million specimens. The collection relates to the Army’s efforts to plan for possible disease vectors at new locations where military are deployed.

I cataloged a portion of the POBSP collection in the Division of Birds; it was the first time I came across detailed notes on not only wildlife (in this case birds), but also transects of vegetation in habitat, and ectoparasites found on the birds, all in the same journals. This project was one of several that received a portion of its funding from the Department of Defense. I was intrigued by the projects’ similarities in timing, size, and funding; I wondered if the similarities were coincidence or if there was something in common influencing the structure and timing of all the projects.

Survey data sheet from the Smithsonian Venezuela Project. Housed at the Division of Mammals, National Museum of Natural History. Photographed by Lesley Parilla.

But first I’d like to talk a little more about the type of information recorded in field notes for these projects. The study of ectoparasites constituted a significant portion of the African Mammal Project’s field books I recently cataloged, and unlike POBSP, notes on host animals and ectoparasites were recorded in separate catalogs. Often entitled “bug books,” collectors would record the presence of ectoparasites collected from the mammal specimens, and note the presence of fleas, mites, ticks, lice; as well as genus of host. The Smithsonian Venezuelan project yielded even more detailed information per mammal host. These included survey data sheets that recorded per mammal specimen recording:

type of ectoparasite

time of day

weather

phase of moon

wind

specific site #

temperature (maximum and minimum)

humidity (maximum and minimum)

elevation, latitude and longitude

topography

These also included an additional 18 other pieces of information about the mammal host. When I started cataloging in entomology, I spoke with one of the scientists who informed me that some of the collected ectoparasites are in the Smithsonian entomology collection.

I had a chance to speak to Pam Henson, Director of the Institutional History Division at the Smithsonian Institution, about these projects. It turns out these projects came at an interesting time in the history of the Smithsonian and federally funded research. The Smithsonian houses and cares for national collections of the United States; the institution maintains long term relationships with the agencies that contributed to these collections. Scientists who work for the Smithsonian historically conduct pure science research. When we find field books relating to applied science research (usually of economic or medical importance), the work was typically completed by federal agency like US Department of Agriculture, US Geological Survey, and US Biological Survey; specimens from the organizations were transferred to the Smithsonian who became caretaker of the collections. This is how NMNH came to include the NAMRU and Hemorrhagic Fever Team field books. The military team field books are from conflict zones during the 1950’s and 1960’s and document collecting of mammals and insects to study sites of disease outbreaks among troops, like work completed by the US Army Hemorrhagic Fever Team. The resulting mammal specimens were given to the Smithsonian along with the field books as documentation.

The four Smithsonian projects mentioned earlier were major undertakings involving applied research conducted by Smithsonian staff. It seems that all of these projects garnered significant funding from DOD, partly because of growing concerns about disease vectors affecting troops in new locations. By the beginning of the 1970’s, the Smithsonian decided for several reasons that this type of research was outside its scope. Smithsonian staff returned their focus to pure science research, whose results could be shared without restriction.

These studies offer an amazingly clear example of interconnectedness of nature at work. The resulting documents can delineate relationships across types of flora and fauna to a specimen and its collecting site. Additionally these projects offer a unique glimpse into the history of scientific collecting approaches and our Institution history.

Tuesday, 16 October 2012

The Field Book Project was launched in 2010 to build an online registry of field book content. The Registry, which is now under development, will be a resource to bring together field books (within and from outside of the Smithsonian Institution) into one online location. For those of you who have followed our progress over the past couple of years, this is old news. But the need for this kind of resource continues to reveal itself. Recently, it was exemplified for me when cataloging the field notes of Leonard P. Schultz.

Ichthyologist Leonard P. Schultz (1901-1986) worked on the classification of fishes and studied shark attacks. He came to work at the United States National Museum (now known as the National Museum of Natural History) in 1936 and remained there until his death in 1986.
Among the many projects and expeditions that Schultz took part in was Operation Crossroads, a U.S. Navy project that sent scientists to the Marshall Islands to record observations before and after the infamous Bikini Atoll atomic bomb tests of 1946. Schultz worked as an ichthyologist on Operation Crossroads, collecting fish and observing the effects of the blast on the local fauna.

Over the summer, I cataloged field notes that are part of the Leonard Peter Schultz Papers, circa 1915-1970, with related papers from 1899 (Record Unit 7222), at the Smithsonian Institution Archives.
The field notes themselves are provocative and very interesting, especially for me, as someone who did not live through that time when the world was just discovering the destructive powers of nuclear energy.

One entry, written on “Able Day” (the day of the first atomic blast test at Bikini Atoll) describes Schultz’s experience of watching the mushroom cloud and even feeling the heat on his face. His observations pre- and post-blast are emotionally stirring, but also scientifically significant—they provide a detailed record of the environment before and after the explosions.

All in all, 14 of Schultz’s field books from this time period, and the 1947 re-survey, are part of the collection at the Smithsonian Institution Archives. The materials include his logbook, field notes, annotated maps, photographs, negatives, and 16mm films.

Meanwhile, at Division of Fishes…

Soon after I finished cataloging that collection, I trekked over to the Museum Support Center where the NMNH Division of Fishes field notes are held. Summer Cataloging Intern Alice Doolittle had cataloged almost all of the Fishes field notes, leaving off at the letter “S”. I went to finish up cataloging those notes. Surprised was I to find even more field notes of Leonard P. Schultz—including notes from Operation Crossroads!

The book below includes Schultz’s notes on fishes surveyed before the atomic blast, and includes color sketches of the specimens. As mentioned in a previous blog post, color field sketches are an important information recording tool for ichthyologists; since specimens lose their color quickly, the sketches can give an idea of the colors and patterns observed on the fish right at the time it was collected.

The Division of Fishes has three items of Schultz’s from his work on Operation Crossroads: an itinerary of his trip, the field book shown above, and field data. These books were kept in succession with the ones that are held at Smithsonian Institution Archives, and together they give a broader, richer, and more complete set of valuable data, observations, and other information.

Bringing it all together

I’d venture to say that the problem of “split collections” is not altogether uncommon, here at the Smithsonian, or other institutions. Related field notes are often split up, either intentionally or unintentionally. Before the launch of the Field Book Project years ago, Co-Principle Investigator Rusty Russell ran into several obstacles while trying to access field notes of the United States Exploring Expedition (1838-1842). His search brought him to 11 (yes, eleven!) separate institutions. That frustration and recognition of the need for increased accessibility and control led to the formation of The Field Book Project.

Beyond just connecting the field notes of one collector from a specific date, the Registry also allows connections to be made between items from the same Expedition or project, and even similar subjects, across collections.

For example, if you want to access field notes for the Marshall Islands (or even more specifically, Bikini Atoll), you could search by location. Currently the Field Book Registry has 71 field books from the Marshall Islands, providing a trove of information on the biodiversity of this location.
And if you wanted to find more field notes on Operation Crossroads, you would find that there were actually two Smithsonian scientists who took part in that project—the other being malacologist Joseph P. E. Morrison. In fact, field notes related to Operation Crossroads or other surveys before and after atomic bomb testing exist in various collections outside of the Smithsonian Institution as well (some light internet research turns up articles, photographs, videos, and more).

Our goal, eventually, is to bring all of those materials into one online location so that it’s easier to find.
Schultz's Operation Crossroads field notes are yet another example that shows the importance of linking these related collections so that users may find all relevant materials. Through the descriptive work that we do, important relationships are maintained, and—at least virtually—the information co-located.

This week as part of Beyond the Field Book Project section of our blog, we continue our series of interviews to learn more about who uses field books and for what kinds of research. Last month, I had the opportunity to interview Victor G. Springer, PhD, from the Division of Fishes. His interests are in the classification, distribution, and morphology (particularly osteology; gill-arch musculature) of fishes, with special interests in blennioid and a few other groups of fishes. He has been in his chosen field for over sixty years, and joined the Division of Fishes at National Museum of Natural History in 1961. Dr. Springer was kind enough share some of his process for recording field data and use of field books in his research.

What types of information do you find important to record in your field notes?

I record field data on water resistant paper sheets. I include specific locality data, ecological notes, date and method of collection, initial preservative, and sundry notes (e.g., indications if specimens were photographed), sometimes sight records of species not collected, date of collection, as well as other participants, if any, during the collecting. I also keep a daily diary at the end of day, with various other types of information, including sundry observations and quotidian remarks – sometimes very personal. When the fish are being packed for shipment, an ad hoc list of identifications may be included on the field data sheets or entered in the diary.

What role do the field notes you take play in your research processes?

The field data are now usually completely entered in the Division of Fishes catalog of specimens and on a label placed in the jar with the specimens. This data has been computerized for several years, but for my early collections the data was only recorded by hand in catalog books and might not have been completely included. For these early collections I go back to the field data sheets for missing information or to correct errors that might have been made when data were entered by hand in the catalog books.

Do you ever consult field notes that were done for another expedition, for example a historic expedition? If so, how do you use the information in those notes for your research?

When using specimens from the George Vanderbilt collections at Stanford University, jars of specimens only had the field collection number associated with them, and it was necessary to go to the detailed field data sheets to get the information. This has happened at the National Museum of Natural History only on rare occasion, but there is one outstanding example I remember. An ichthyologist named William Longley, made important collections during the early 1900s in various places in Indonesia and also in Florida. He never associated labels with his specimens, relying on his memory and field data sheets for the information he needed. When he died, his collections of mixed fish from mixed localities were given to us. These were sorted by us and generally identified – usually only to family, and whoever did this placed the same locality label in each jar of specimens: EAST INDIES. Using his diaries and field notes I was able to assign more accurate localities to those specimens of his that I used in my studies.

Thank you, Dr. Springer, for sharing with us about your work process and the use and value of field notes relating to your research. You can learn more about ichthyology field notes on our Blog.

Aviation has had significant effects on the nature of field work. It has changed not only how the collectors get to a site, but also how they see and collected, resulting in wide-ranging consequences.

By the mid-twentieth century, commercial aviation was dramatically changing the speed of travel; collectors, up to that time, would commonly travel long distances via train or boat. With commercial aviation, a weeklong boat trip to Africa became a multi-hour long flight. During the 1960’s when commercial air travel became more widespread, there was an influx of major surveys by Smithsonian departments involving large numbers of staff that would have proven far more logistically complicated prior to commercial aviation. The speed and ease of commercial air travel meant collectors could spend significantly less time getting to their sites and more time on-site. With the time they saved, collectors could spend longer at one location or visit additional ones.

The advent of planes also affected collecting by changing collectors’ perspectives. Collectors could see the environments they studied from an entirely new vantage, hundreds or thousands of feet in the air. Some scientists even took it a step further and used aviation as a way to collect the specimens. Perry A. Glick, an entomologist with the US Department of Agriculture’s Agricultural Research Service, used nets that attached to planes, enabling insect collecting in air to study the altitudinal distribution of insects. He produced several publications about this during the 1950’s and 1960’s.

By the 1940’s, there are examples of scientists attempting to integrate the aviation into their field work observations and collecting. Some of these attempts proved less than successful, while others helped demonstrate aviation’s value to field work. I found a reference to an unsuccessful attempt with a helicopter in a journal of C. O. Handley, Jr. Judging from the results, I am assuming they did not try it again.

[Thule, Greenland, 1948] The way it turned out he flew in the helicopter instead and spent the afternoon trying to fish from that. On the water, with its rotors off, the plane blows about like a kite even in a small breeze. Thus no matter where they would land, they would soon drift in to the beach. Another disadvantage was that when the helicopter starts on the water after its rotor has been dead, the whole thing spins with the rotor until the latter attains sufficient speed to stabilize the plane.

Though the helicopter proved less than useful over water, it yielded results over land. The journal includes hand drawn maps that indicate that survey results were successful, as seen in recorded observation taken via helicopter and on foot.

Example of F. Raymond Fosberg’s observations from an airplane. Photographed by Emily Hunter.

A more successful example of aerial observations is the work of F. Raymond Fosberg, (discussed in the February 24, 2012 article by Emily Hunter), who recognized the benefits of aerial observations alongside ground observations for his field of botany. Several of his field books include extended aerial observations of sites where he collected botanical specimens. Fosberg even published articles promoting the use of aerial photographs for surveying and studying botanical distribution. He proposed using military aerial photographs (that were taken during World War II) for this purpose. I have not been able to determine whether his hopes for these photographs came to fruition, but there are now a considerable number of examples of aerial photography being used for this type of botanical study.

Botany was not the only other field to make use of aviation. Harry S. Ladd used aerial observations in his field of paleontology and geology. Field notes document his observations via helicopter, noting the shape and character of reefs in Fiji, as seen below in a journal excerpt.

May 7, 1968 Tues - By Hill helicopter from Heron Id to Gladstone [Fiji]. Flying over reefs confirms impressions obtained on ground – i.e. if lee reefs and lagoons. Reefs appear to be more saw-toothed on lee than on windward. No suggestion of lithothamnion(?) ridge to windward – only what looks like a low marinol bulge (of debris?). Lagoon of Wistari(?) appears to have small ring-like structure-comparable to that seen yesterday in Heron lagoon plus irregular.

All of the forms of transportation discussed in our transportation series have helped shape the research recorded by the field notes we document. Sometimes they present challenges to the collectors, sometimes a new advantage or perspective. For me, it demonstrates the flexibility and ingenuity of our collectors to see and to use opportunities as they present themselves. Field work often seems to be journey of the unexpected; I can’t wait to see what comes next.

Friday, 05 October 2012

So where do poo, our field books, and the history of our nation meet? I found two connections: Alexander Wetmore during his work in the Pacific islands for the US Department of Agriculture (USDA) and Vernon Bailey during work in Mammoth Cave, Kentucky, for the US Biological Survey.

One of the first collections I cataloged was that of Alexander Wetmore. Wetmore was an ornithologist (all-around great guy) who worked for the USDA and was later Secretary of the Smithsonian Institution. He took part in the Tanager Expedition (1923); my blog post on this expedition discusses the ramifications of the guano industry in the Hawaiian Islands, but it wasn’t until after I wrote the article that I learned about the Guano Act of 1856.

Pelagic birds migrating across the Pacific Ocean return each year to the Hawaiian Islands and leave their guano behind. Guano, at one time, could be found multiple feet in depth. Harvesting bird guano from these islands was a major industry during the late nineteenth century. In fact, the US Congress passed the United States Guano Act of 1856 that allowed a US citizen who,

Discovers a deposit of guano on any island, rock, or key, not within the lawful jurisdiction of any other government, and not occupied by the citizens of any other government, and takes peaceable possession thereof, and occupies the same, such island, rock, or key may, at the discretion of the President, be considered as appertaining to the United States. (R.S. Sec. 5570 derived from act Aug. 18, 1856, ch. 164, Sec. 1, 11 Stat. 119. Taken from the Office of the Law Revision Counsel, US House of Representatives)

Through this law, citizens could legally take possession of “unclaimed” islands on behalf of the United States. Islands like Midway, Howland, Baker, and Jarvis Islands, among others became part of the Unites States in this way. Alexander Wetmore’s notes, maps, and materials from the Tanager Expedition give a graphic depiction of the inadvertent environmental aftermath of human activities of these islands.

Collecting Guano, Laysan Island. Image is taken from Walter Rothschild's The Avifauna of Laysan and the neighbouring islands with a complete history to date of the birds of the Hawaiian possession (London: R.H. Porter, 1893-1900). It is part of the Smithsonian Institution Library's Digital Collection 2003. SIL6-3-007a.

If you want to know more about the history of Laysan Island and its guano industry, Smithsonian Institution Archives also has the family journals of Maximillian Joseph August Schlemmer who worked with the North Pacific Phosphate and Fertilizer Company, which mined guano. During his time on Laysan Island, Max introduced rabbits as a food source. These rabbits later populated at such a fast rate that they decimated the island flora and fauna over the next twenty years. Ironically, Wetmore recruited Max's son Eric to be part of the Tanager Expedition in 1923, during which expedition participants were finally able to successfully eradicate the rabbit population and allow the island ecosystem to recover.

Back on the mainland…

Interest in the uses of guano was not just in the Pacific. There are references to its uses in some of Vernon Bailey’s field notes for the Biological Survey. Bailey studied bats across the United States, documenting populations, habitat, and interviewing local inhabitants about their observations of bat populations and utilization of guano. While in the southwest United States investigating bat populations in 1924, interviewing locals about bat roosts etc., he wrote:

Dr. Campbell says he gets about 2 tons a year of guano from this roost and give it to his wife for pin money. She sells it in 10lb bags at $1 a bag to florists, gardeners, etc.

Vernon Bailey spent time studying bats in Mammoth Cave in Kentucky in 1929. He also published about his time in Kentucky, giving some great background and history on the caves. This is how I found the connection to guano that helped make Mammoth Cave famous. Bat guano does not just make for a great fertilizer; it is also a source of saltpeter, an important ingredient in gun powder. Mammoth Cave was an important source of this ingredient during the War of 1812. To learn more about it, check out the National Park Service website.

Poo, for all its less than pleasant characteristics, can be a powerful tool for natural history study, agriculture, and (at one time) national defense. Its importance to the world economy may have changed, but it has influenced world history in significant ways, and will continue to be a source of new and important information about the natural world.

Tuesday, 02 October 2012

Even having studied history in college, it is difficult to chase away the ennui of seemingly dead-end research, particularly when you imagine divulging exciting facts and uncovering lost secrets. For me, research possesses the allure of sleuthing a mystery. Spontaneous discoveries do not exist outside the realm of possibility, but more often than not, making difficult sources pliant requires context and focus. My experience with the Smithsonian Field Book Project exemplifies this process of making your search an informed one. When told I could write about almost anything pertaining to the field books, my question was, “Where to start?”! Eager as I was, I was at a bit of a loss.

Then I found an ink-etched scrawl in a seam between pages of Agnes Chase’s field book: “Who is Ramón Corral?” This was my spontaneous discovery! Never having heard the name, I asked the same question. Who was Ramón Corral? A quick search explained that Corral was vice president of Mexico from 1904-1911. Corral resigned from his post as incumbent president in light of revolutionary uprisings against the government of Porfirio Diaz. Diaz and Corral’s deposition began the Mexican Revolution that made Pancho Villa and Emilio Zapata famous rebel leaders. This gave me context to understand one small mystery buried in Chase’s scientific notes.

Uncovering Corral’s identity also supplied me with the focus for this blog post. While Chase’s quick scrawl may have been a passing thought that was never answered, her presence in Mexico at this time subjected her to precarious situation, including growing revolutionary sentiments. Her exposure to this tension may have prompted her thought on Corral’s identity. Unfortunately, however, there was no other obvious record of conflict in her notes.

Full page spread of Chase field notebook; note the comment on Corral on the left page. SIA Acc. 11-093, National Museum of Natural History, Department of Botany. Photograph by Emmie Miller.

So began my hunt for other botanists with similar experiences represented in the field books. Some botanists used wartime as an opportunity for collecting, like Edward Palmer. As a Union soldier during the Civil War, his command sent him west to Colorado, a new biological landscape for him to explore; his field notes document his collecting during this time. Another botanist, Egbert Walker, received specimens mailed from American servicemen all around the globe during World War II after establishing the Servicemen’s Collecting Program, giving him access to diverse ecosystems. But the most intriguing botanical character to pursue life-threatening field work was Joseph Rock.

Rock was perhaps more an adventurer than a botanist. He spent his life collecting in Asia and studying Chinese and Tibetan indigenous cultures. Rock’s frequent use of Chinese characters in his field books demonstrates the degree to which Rock studied Chinese culture. He journaled his ambivalent feelings about China, criticizing the culture from his very Western perspective, though he often felt at home there. Context is pivotal here in explaining Rock’s experiences: Rock continually returned to China despite the five occasions on which violence interrupted or destroyed his work. This makes his field books more valuable, as Rock had, at times, poor luck preserving his scholarship. To understand the risk of his returns, you must understand Rock’s departures.

Message from Joseph Rock to William Maxon, sent from Yunnan, China (1922). SIA Acc. 11-094, National Museum of Natural History, Department of Botany. Photo by Emmie Miller.

One of Rock’s 1922 field books gives a cursory glance at the difficulties of working in China. In a note to Smithsonian botanist William Maxon, he says, “I will mail [my field book] to you from China if I find a post office in Yunnan.” At what point he found a post office is hard to say, but presumably the note and the field book were sent together, reaching the Smithsonian safely.

Rock’s early years in China are well-documented, and while he botanized, he experienced localized tribal conflict. In one instance he’d made preparations for the precipitous journey to a mountain pass for collecting, but fighting between Chinese Muslims and Tibetan Buddhists jeopardized the expedition and it was called off. World War II further challenged Rock’s studies. When the Japanese invaded China in 1937, Rock fled to modern-day Vietnam. 1944 found Rock evacuated to the United States as WWII intensified in the Pacific. In 1949, Rock fled China for the last time during the Chinese Revolution.

The context surrounding Rocks’ exploits explains why my article’s focus is important: scientists often find themselves in dangerous regions in dangerous times. Rock’s location in the early twentieth century posed challenges due to the dangers and inconveniences of the politically unstable region. Like the other determined and ambitious botanists mentioned in this article, Rock would not be stopped.

Resources

Beaty, Janice. Plants in a Pack: A Life of Edward Palmer, Adventurous Botanist and Collector. New York: Pantheon Books, 1964.

The Field Book Project is an initiative to increase accessibility to field book content that documents natural history. Through ongoing partnerships within and beyond the Smithsonian Institution, the Project is making field books easier to find and available in a digital format for current research, as well as inspiring new ways of utilizing these rich information resources.